


Lost

by Brate, K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:26:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brate/pseuds/Brate, https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing ever goes off without a hitch in the Pegasus Galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

After many failures and hardships, we finally had a successful meeting with a new people. 

One of the reasons Major Sheppard requested I be on his team was to act as a guide to the many people in the galaxy who are friends to the Athosians. I have tried to fulfill this role for the benefit of both our peoples, but often without success. Some had already been culled by the Wraith; others, like the Genii, presented a very different face to the Lanteans than they had to us. Major Sheppard and Dr. Weir did not complain, but I often felt the weight of their concern as food grew scarce and the Wraith threat advanced. And so it was a relief to find welcome among the Tukorans, and possible trade that would benefit both sides if we could help them with their problem. 

Behind me, the major and Dr. McKay were "discussing" the mission. I find it amusing that these two friends—and they were friends no matter how it would be denied—show their camaraderie arguing back and forth. About anything. They both seem to enjoy it, though Major Sheppard merely takes pleasure in it, while Dr. McKay seems to thrive on it. I looked back at them, catching Aiden's eye as he brought up the rear, and we exchanged a knowing smile.

Differing personalities. That had drawn us all together. I believe part of the major's reaction was an attempt to remain aloof; I recognize his solitary nature within myself. Dr. McKay, on the other hand, loves to argue. It is how he connects to people, interacts with them. That is one reason it took me longer to consider him a friend, but I believe it to be worth the trouble. And Aiden has a joy and wonder I suspect the others relish as much as I. We are a good team, balanced and complete. 

"I definitely think we should do it," Major Sheppard was saying.

"Fine, then you convince Elizabeth." We had reached the stargate and Dr. McKay stepped forward to enter the symbols. 

The major had turned his back to the gate, keeping an eye out for any trouble. He is as vigilant a warrior as any of my people. "Why me?" he asked.

"You know you're dying to set off yet another bomb. How many so far, five?" Dr. McKay ticked off numbers on his fingers. 

"Six, sir," Aiden offered cheerfully.

"Well, then this will be lucky number seven for you," Dr. McKay said to the major. "How proud your parents will be." He punched in the entry code on his GDO. 

"I doubt that," the major said quietly, uncharacteristically serious.

It was an odd tone, and I glanced at his face, but the major's mask had already slipped back into place. Dr. McKay was also looking at him thoughtfully. We all had our secrets, our "skeletons in our...cupboards"? I believe those pasts also bind us, though, instead of pushing us apart as they might have. We had all known pain, and found comfort in each other.

Major Sheppard quickly recovered himself. "Shall we?" he asked with a brash grin, motioning to the wormhole.

We went. But my humor had been replaced by an unease I could not explain or relieve. 

* * * * *

"The planet of Tukora has been suffering severe acidic rain for many seasons," Teyla explained. "They have succeeded in growing some crops, but it becomes more difficult each year."

"So you're saying we could fix this?" I asked.

Sheppard's team sat around the conference table. They had finished their debrief, and I was responsible for deciding if their proposal was viable. The deal sounded wonderful to me: crops for us, the solution to an agricultural crisis for the Tukorans—but that's exactly what rang warning bells in my head. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is; the saying was a cliché for a reason. As the leader of an intergalactic expedition, I've been thrown too many curve balls to take anything at face value.

"The satellite in their atmosphere is breaking down and releasing chemicals that are turning the rain acidic," Rodney said. "If we get rid of the satellite, weather patterns should return to normal within a year. I've done a quick consult with Dr. Szilágyi, and she agreed there is a good chance this will work without doing any more damage to the environment."

"How good a chance?"

"I haven't had time to do all the calculations, but I would estimate it to be around a 98.7% likelihood of success."

"Major? You'll be on the front line, so to speak—what are your thoughts?"

Sheppard nodded. "Oh, yeah. I like those odds. Usually, it's the other way 'round."

I saw his eyes twinkle and guessed the source. "And you get to set off another bomb."

"And I get to set off another bomb," he agreed with a grin.

"There will be benefits to both our people," Teyla put in. "The Tukorans will soon double their yield, and we will receive one half of their surplus harvest for the next five years."

"And if it doesn't work?"

John shrugged. "We'll owe them three goats."

I blinked. "We don't have three goats."

"Then we better hope it works," Lt. Ford mumbled.

I shook my head and looked over at Rodney. "We still don't know where this...object in their atmosphere came from. Is it possible it has some sort of defenses, or purpose we're not aware of that might put the major or the Tukorans at risk?"

"I doubt it," he answered briskly. "Look, our readings show the satellite is very, very old. There's no sign of a race that advanced ever living on M1K-172, meaning this is probably yet another example of the Ancients trying to help and making things worse. Szilágyi and I hypothesized the satellite was designed to stabilize weather patterns that have now been stable for thousands of years, which makes it all the less likely that it's armed—that isn't how the Ancients usually operate—but considering it's doing more harm than good now, any purpose it originally had is moot. It needs to go or the planet's going to die." 

Tremendous stakes, as usual. "But is there any chance of something going wrong?"

"Well, yes, of course, there's always a _chance_ ," Rodney said. "However, in this case it's so tiny, I wouldn't even mention it."

I narrowed my eyes at him. Rodney had a habit of glossing over information he didn't think was important—or that would change my point of view. "Tiny?"

"Infinitesimal, really."

"Is that so?"

Rodney looked at Major Sheppard for support. As if that would sway me, knowing their penchant for trouble. Even Ford had come alive at the mention of explosives, goats aside. 

I could have reminded them Ancient machinery did not always react as we expected, but considering his experience with personal shields and several other devices we'd found in the city, few knew that as well as Dr. McKay. These briefings were to solicit my experts' thoughts, and I had to consider them all. More to the point, "The Ancients don't usually booby-trap devices that were meant to help." 

"Exactly." Rodney nodded. 

"And even if the risk were greater, you've already promised them our help," I said, looking pointedly at John. 

He gave a sheepish shrug. We'd had this discussion after both the Hoffans and the Genii, but I knew I had to give my field personnel authority to make decisions for the expedition. I just wish Major Sheppard didn't exercise it so often.

I sat back. "Then I don't really see any choice to be made. If we can help keep a race from dying out with minimal risk or cost to ourselves, we have a duty to do so."

"Even if it wasn't Ancient technology that caused the problem in the first place," John smoothly added. 

I tipped my head in reluctant acknowledgement. "I'm giving the okay. How soon can you be ready?"

"It'll take us twenty-four hours to make the necessary preparations, including moving the natives," Rodney answered.

"Moving the natives?"

"Just a precaution. We figured they can stay on M7R-372 for a few hours."

"That should also give Drs. McKay and Zelenka enough time to complete their device," Teyla added. She had agreed with the plan, which weighed heavily in its favor. I've often looked to her for advice, in part as another leader and in part as counterpoint to the three sometimes reckless male members of her team. I'd never told her the latter but suspected she knew.

I didn't really like it; I never liked sending anyone into potential danger, but the risks were about as low as they got here in Atlantis. It was something I'd learned to live with, not to mention my job and responsibility. Besides, how often did we get to help save a whole planet? This decision at least I could feel good about. I nodded and pushed back from the table. 

"All right then. I suggest we get started." 

* * * * *

Pushing Dr. Szilágyi away again, I made some minor adjustments to the equipment. I know it's her field and all, but it was _my_ project. 

"Rodney?"

I looked up at Elizabeth's call. "What? Yes, we're ready."

"All right, Major, you have a go."

I barely heard her instructions, too focused on the readouts on my laptop and keeping Szilágyi away from it. She had her own station, for God's sake, so why was she haunting mine? The stargate activated, its wormhole whooshing to life, and I waved a quick goodbye to Major Sheppard in the jumper without taking my eyes off the screen. I'd never saved a whole planet before; I didn't want to miss a thing. 

We'd set up sensors in four locations, allowing us to take readings before, during, and after the event. Sheppard would climb to a height of 2.3 kilometers above the surface of the planet, where the satellite was in low orbit, then release the carefully calibrated bomb Radek and I had designed. Ten seconds later it would detonate, giving the major time to get clear of the blast area.

" _Almost in position. Releasing package in ten._ " __

 __I listened to him count down, watching the energy patterns as he released the explosive. Was that a spike? Frowning, I leaned in, intending to nail down the source. As I traced it, I heard Peter announce the detonation, and turned my attention to the weather readings, smirking as the abnormal readings immediately dipped. If the expected decline remained steady, the Tukorans would start seeing healthier crops within weeks, even with the soil taking longer to wash out. And we'd have much-needed food for ourselves. Pride and satisfaction overwhelmed me for a moment: the planet would thrive and I was responsible. Well, mostly responsible.

Then a worried voice cut into my thoughts. 

"Major Sheppard, can you hear us?"

Elizabeth sounded like she'd asked the question before. Had she asked the question before?

"Major Sheppard, please respond."

That was wrong. He always responds. It may take a few more seconds than we'd like, but he responds. But it had already been too many seconds.

A long silence answered her plea. Everyone in the control room had stopped moving, talking, probably breathing as they waited to hear the response of a cocky flyboy. 

Nothing.

Not a peep.

Elizabeth turned to me. "Rodney?"

What was I supposed to do, conjure the man out of thin air? I did the only thing I could: look at the data we'd collected. I snapped at Szilágyi, "Find out what happened," then zeroed in on my laptop, trying to figure out what might have gone wrong. 

Distantly, I heard Elizabeth calling for a team to the gate room, presumably to go to the planet and search for Major Sheppard. The silence deepened as the gate shut down. 

A shadow moved beside me. "Anything?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know," I answered. I didn't like this feeling, the helplessness. Until the data or Major Sheppard told me what had gone wrong, I was as much in the dark as anybody. 

"I have something."

Dr. Szilágyi's voice shot out across the control room. I practically ran to her side, trying to see what she saw before she could say anything. An elbow in my hip reminded me she liked her personal space, too.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked. She'd followed me over. 

"Just before the explosion was set off, there was an unusual amount of ionization in the cloud cover," Szilágyi said.

Oh, crap. The spike.

"What does that mean?" Elizabeth asked.

I answered this time, my voice flat. "It means the satellite was leaking more than just chemicals, so the reactive explosion we estimated would extend fifteen hundred meters was closer to double that."

"So Major Sheppard might've gotten caught in the blast?"

"More than likely."

"All right then." Elizabeth gave me a jerky nod. She walked over to talk to Ford and Teyla, sure to be leading the search. 

Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me over to them. "I want to go."

She gave me a hard look. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather be analyzing your data?" 

"The major is more important." 

Szilágyi and Grodin looked surprised but no one else did, for which I was grateful. I'm a man of science, but I do use it to help people. And the way I could help right then was going through the gate and looking for Major Sheppard. I don't think I could have stayed behind if I'd wanted to.

I'd helped save a planet. I really didn't want to believe I'd killed my best friend doing so. 

* * * * *

I stepped back through the gate and looked wearily around the gate room, drained and about ready to fall. I hadn't walked so much at one time since I'd gotten out of Basic. But the emotional toll was worse. 

In the Marines, we're taught to focus on the objective and not let our feelings in. As humans, we can't help it. And I felt the loss of Major Sheppard deeply. I'd grown to admire and respect him while "trapped" here in the Pegasus Galaxy. He'd had command forced onto him, but had taken to it like a fish to water. Ironic, considering where we lived.

I caught Dr. Weir's eye and, at her questioning gaze, shook my head. I couldn't help but see her disappointment. I marshaled my resolve and walked over to her. 

"Report, Lt. Ford."

"No sign of him, ma'am," I informed her. "We found the jumper pretty beat up in about twenty feet of water off the coast. The rear hatch was open and it was flooded."

"You sent divers?"

"Yes, ma'am. There was no sign of Major Sheppard in the ship." I didn't add it probably meant the major's body had been swept out to sea. I knew by the look on her face I didn't have to.

Dr. McKay joined us. "We tried the life-signs detector, but the mineral deposits of the planet seem to render it useless."

I tried not to react to the wounded tone. I'd practically had to drag the doc back through the gate when he'd wanted to stay and keep searching in the dark. I told him it wouldn't serve any purpose, but it didn't seem to matter. He wouldn't budge until I explained that if he got hurt, he couldn't help look for the major. 

It's not as though I wanted to leave, either, but I tried to be pragmatic. I would be going back. I knew the major would never give up on me, and he deserved the same. 

"Teyla talked to Frelax, Tukora's governor, and he assured me they would keep an eye out for the major."

"They settled back in all right?" 

I had to hand it to Dr. Weir; as worried as she was for the major, she knew the importance of the mission came first. "Yes, ma'am. They're happy with the results so far, and are anxious to see if conditions remain."

"That's good." She nodded, preoccupied, as tired as we were even though she'd stayed behind. Personally, I think that's harder. She managed a smile anyway. "Get some rest, Lieutenant. You can go back in the morning." 

"Yes, ma'am." I smiled back, just a little, then turned to leave, ready for a shower and bed. 

But something kept me from walking out of there. 

I turned back and saw Teyla talking quietly to Dr. McKay, who was nodding dully. My teammates. My team, sorta, now that the major wasn't there. Which made me responsible for them. 

I walked over, returned Teyla's sad look, watched the doc lift up his chin like he wasn't hurting as bad as the rest of us, and I nodded toward the door. "Let's go." 

They didn't say a word, just followed.

I think we all got at least some sleep in the rec room, where we regrouped after cleaning up. I guess none of us really felt like being alone. Maybe the major had been as new to being part of a team as Teyla and Dr. McKay were, but he'd sure known how to pull us together into one. I wouldn't've believed it a few months back, but that's just one of the things I've learned from the major. 

I just wished he were here to appreciate it, because I had no idea what to do next.

* * * * *

It was dark, too dark to see anything.

Oh. Probably because my eyes were closed.

I opened them, looked around. Nope, still dark. Last thing I remembered was bailing out of the jumper and careening down a hill. Nothing after that. That'll teach me to jump without a parachute—wonder if the Ancients had any lying around? We could stock all the jumpers. True, it wouldn't help in space, but no plan was perfect.

My mind was wandering. I guessed it was time to see how my body was. I pushed up on my hands, quickly regretting the movement. My head swam and nausea invaded. Rolling over, I emptied my stomach. The smell hit me harder than the stomach cramps, and I turned away to catch my breath before assessing my other injuries. Obviously, I'd hit my head. Check.

I reached slowly into my vest and grabbed my flashlight. I flicked it on, shading my eyes as I took stock of the damage. Moving very carefully, it was clear I would be bruised and battered for a while. My arms were impressively scratched up, but nothing broken. Check. 

Rising much more cautiously, I kept my head attached and my stomach under control. The celebration was cut short when I tried to stand. A lancing pain shot through my knee, sending me to the ground sweating and cursing. Okay, that sucked. 

I took out my knife and cut my pants leg off just above the knee. Shining the light on it, I saw it was already swollen; I'd wrenched it good. I sliced the fabric into strips and tied them around the knee, hoping to brace it enough to walk on.

It was a sign how much I wasn't myself that it only then occurred to me to check for my equipment. My vest was in shreds, first aid kit gone, PowerBars gone. Ford would have my head for losing my sidearm. And radio? Nope. Great, I'd lost another radio. Weir was going to start charging me for 'em. So unless a miracle occurred, I was on my own getting back to the gate. Which reminded me...

GDO, gone. 

I sighed. This was not looking to be one of my better days.

Still, the gate was my best goal, because they'd be coming to look for me. I knew that for sure. My job was to make it easier for them to find me. 

I thought back to where I'd bailed out, trying to remember the location of the gate in reference to me, figuring direction and distance. But there would be no way I could maneuver in the dark with a bum knee. It would be dangerous at full health and without, I suspected, a concussion. In my current shape, it would be suicidal. I had no choice but to wait for light. I could almost hear Carson's voice telling me I had to stay awake meanwhile, although I'd apparently been out of it for a while since it was now dark. Teyla had said something about this planet's shorter days and nights than we were used to. Maybe I hadn't been out _that_ long.

Taking stock of my surroundings, ignoring the drumbeat in my head, I realized I was under an overhang, inside a cave. Pretty good shelter, not that I'd actually chosen it. I was cold but not particularly tired, and I definitely wasn't hungry, so I guess it was a good thing I didn't have anything to eat. Of course, if Rodney had come along, I'm sure he would've had something hidden in a pocket somewhere to snack on. Shame to think he would be better prepared than I am. But, in all fairness, I don't think he would've made the leap out of the jumper; it was a miracle I had. Unfortunately, I also had no drinking water with me. I hoped my team would find me or I could make my way back before that became a problem.

At first I thought my eyes were adjusting to the darkness, then I realized it was getting lighter. The first rays of dawn were stretching across the sky, illuminating the ground. No more time left; I had to get moving. My best chance was to grin and bear it, hoping a rescue party met me on the way with a jumper. I'd even accept a pair of crutches in a pinch. 

Taking a deep breath, repeatedly telling myself I was a major in the Air Force and a somewhat manly kind of guy, I pushed off the wall and stood, balancing on my good leg until the dizziness passed. Once the world stopped dancing the Mambo, I tested the knee. 

Under my full weight, it promptly collapsed. Dumping me in the dirt. Again. 

I was really getting sick of this.

Working my way up the wall once more, I stood firm and prepared myself for the flood of pain from my knee I knew was coming. Well, I thought I'd prepared. I figured it didn't count if I screamed or squeezed a few tears out if no one was there to witness it, right?

I finally loosened up enough to move, and easing myself along the wall, I slowly made my way outside, wincing every time I put any weight on the injured knee. A soft rain was falling, making the ground slippery and my shivering worse. I stopped to tilt my head up into it for a moment, feeling it against my warm skin and wondering if the water was clean now, if my mission had succeeded. Saving a whole planet? Yeah, that would have been worth it, even now.

I kept going by slow inches, mind sometimes wandering, feet sometimes wrenchingly losing their traction. About twenty yards down the "trail," I found a stick thick enough and long enough to serve as a prop, giving me a break from the pain of putting my full body's weight on the leg.

Slowly and carefully, I crept along, praying I was headed in the right direction. 

During one of my countless breaks, I saw something in the distance. I focused my blurry vision, saw the gate, and let out a short semi-hysterical laugh. At least the navigational part of my brain still worked, no matter what Rodney thought of my skills in that area.

It gave me something to concentrate on. I lost track of the pain, the shivering, even the reason I kept moving, my mind slipping in and out of grooves like a record-player needle. All I hung on to was where I was heading. 

Didn't even see the group heading toward me until they were in front of me, and I stopped, confused, swaying. Huh. That almost looked like... "Ford?"

"Yes, sir," he grinned, panting as he reached me. 

"Good." I wasn't sure of a lot just then, but I knew my duty. "You're in charge." 

"Yes, sir," he said more softly. "Can we give you a hand, Major?"

"Actually," I said slowly, "that'd be nice."

I don't remember much after that. I'm pretty sure Rodney was on one side of me, and that I saw Teyla nearby, looking worried. I probably should have cared about what, but by then everything was kinda hazy. 

However there was one thing I was sure of. Well, two. My team had come for me. 

And I was going home. 

* * * * *

"Medical team to the gate room."

My team quickly and efficiently collected the basics at that summons, and rushed to the call. 

Running down the steps, I saw a group of people huddled around something—someone. Shooing them away, I knelt next to Major Sheppard, sending a prayer of thanks to the Lord above for sending him back to us. 

"How is he, Carson?" Rodney asked immediately from where he knelt behind the major, Sheppard leaning against him.

"Give me more than a second and I might be able to tell you something!" I snapped. I took a calming breath and focused on the major. He was in one piece, but just barely if his pallor and the blood on his clothes was any indication. I slid him down to the floor and propped his muddy boots on McKay's lap instead, ignoring Rodney's scowl. "How do you feel, Major?" I asked, checking his pulse and noting the clamminess of his skin. Considering he was soaked, it was hard to tell what was perspiration and what was rain. 

"I 'spect about as good as I look," he said with a tired grin. 

"In that case..." I signaled Nurse Dean to start an IV while I checked his vitals. "Major, can you tell me what happened?"

"Let's see...I fell out of a jumper, hit the ground hard, then rolled down a hill."

"Where does it hurt?" My tone was matter-of-fact, keeping him as focused as possible. I'd seen the swollen knee when I moved his legs, and felt a few lumps on the side and back of his head as I checked his skull. Ribs and arms, incredibly, seemed intact. 

"My head feels like little dwarves are chipping away on the inside, and I wrenched my knee." 

"That's it?" I trusted Major Sheppard to tell me his injuries truthfully—up to a point. 

"I promise; that's it, Doc." But his words were becoming slurred. I glanced up at Lt. Ford.

"He's been kinda in and out like that—he snapped back a little when we came through the gate." 

"All right." I nodded, unsurprised. Definite concussion, but I'd have to take some x-rays and run a few tests to know if that was the worst of it. I glanced around at the crowd surrounding my medical team. Elizabeth, Teyla, Rodney, and Lt. Ford were staring at the major, barely aware of anything else. It was if they shared the fear that if they looked away, Sheppard would disappear again. 

Quickly and carefully, we loaded the major onto a gurney, and I directed my team to take him to the infirmary. I turned back, intending to talk to his team, but the three of them were already following the gurney out of the gate room. Elizabeth stood rooted to the spot, obviously torn between her duty in Control and wanting to go with the others. 

"I'll let you know how he is as soon as possible," I told her, touching her arm to try to allay some of her fears.

She nodded, clearing her throat. "Thank you, Carson."

I gave her a small smile and hurried to the infirmary, wriggling through Rodney and Ford stationed just inside the door. I pushed them out, asking Teyla to follow. "As soon as I'm finished, I'll let you back in," I promised, cutting off their protests.

My team had stripped Sheppard's uniform off and draped him with a sheet, allowing me to get to his wounds. Dr. Orton had started cleaning the gash on his head, and I took charge of the rest of him. A quick set of x-rays showed there was nothing broken, just a severe strain. I stabilized his knee, inspected his head wrap, and ordered a full set of antibiotics to stave off infection. 

Remarkably, after all this, the major was still conscious. I was afraid I'd have to keep him that way as long as I could, ensuring there were no complications due to his concussion. Time for his team to come in and lend a hand.

They positioned themselves like they usually did around his bed: Teyla in a chair beside it, Rodney with legs a-swinging on the neighboring bed, and Ford standing guard behind them. Elizabeth would have been there, too, if her work had permitted. I stayed close. 

We were predictable. Concerned. A family.

Such a precarious balance we had out here. Knowing anything could happen, yet everyone doing their best to ignore that fact. And, once again, one of our own had mercifully returned to us. 

Now we all could start healing.


End file.
